A Naked Heart

Filters have controlled people's behavior for so long and thoroughly, I have sensed a deep longing for people to be seen and heard wafting from the collective bones of us—our spirit—when we encounter an opportunity to bloom.

“If we walk far enough,” says Dorothy, “we will sometime come to someplace.”

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

What I noticed about the Introduction to Storytelling and Solo Performance class I recently co-produced with Jack Schultz of Green Shirt Studios, is that it mimicked the audience's reaction to Jack Schultz's solo performance I’m Falling in Love All the Time that same evening—a hunger to witness and speak from the heart.

As terrified as many of the students were in the solo class, they found ways to courageously share by assisting each other and letting themselves freely speak. When the solo performance ended and loved ones told of their experiences with those who had suffered from addiction, the thread weaving through Jack’s deeply personal story, the communal connection in the room was palpable. Compared to the communal disconnection often felt either in person or on social media, the transformative power of the type of engagement that occurred in both the storytelling class and the after-solo discussion could not be missed.

“He is my dog, Toto,” answered Dorothy. “Is he made of tin or stuffed?” asked the Lion. “Neither. He’s a…a…a…meat dog,” said the girl.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

I witnessed those who thought they'd never be able to tell a story in the class and people in the audience overcome entrenched public speaking shyness/anxiety to find their voices. And after doing what had been personally considered out of an individual's scope of practice, there came a collective, joyous spike in awakeness, awareness, alertness, and humanness that I'll never forget.

At the end of the evening, I checked in with Jack, as a primary component of his solo expression is revealing the grief he carries after losing his brother to a heroin overdose. In his performance, he shares this question “What do we do with the love for the people we’ve lost?” Walking up to Jack, he grinned without speaking. I was struck by how joyous he appeared after opening his heart to a room full of strangers.

“How do you feel?” I asked, though it seemed a redundant question.

“You have plenty of courage, I am sure,” answered Oz. “All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.”

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Jack’s joy enveloped his entire body, I could feel him nearly clap with glee. “Great! It went well, it felt good out there, and I was able to stay present!”

“I was able to stay present.”

When Jack continued, he discussed what that meant—staying present while trotting a naked heart out into the jungle that is humanity.

“Lions, and tigers, and bears, ohmy.”

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Jack spoke of how he managed to be present, in his body while emotionally connecting with other people, not only during the performance, but also afterward during the open discussion and then with me when I asked how he felt. He offered compelling testimony of what it might be like to be real.

“When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

The Velveteen Rabbit

“Yeah, it’s hard having those feelings for my brother in front of people, but when I sense they get it and are following along with me…its freeing and a connection all at once. I feel more alive.”

My face must have looked dubious.

“I won’t say it’s easy. There have been times when I’ve performed this and dialed it in, the audience got the story and not the emotion. I couldn’t do it. And that’s okay. It’s part of me learning how to be present.”

Later by email, our conversation moved onto how Jack’s theatrical background and study of the Meisner Approach may be the grounding wire that’s helping him do this kind of performance work and stay present in front of an audience. I’m considering signing up for a Meisner Intensive Class that begins next weekend (12/7/19). The shrieking sound of my inner-freak-out is likely echoing through this typeface.

Since the class and performance, Jack’s vibrant, joyous face after spilling his guts in public has stirred my cup of tea.

“He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these.”

The Velveteen Rabbit

Scary. Unsettling. Stripping the heart down to a naked spirit and exposing it to the jungle.

That’ll likely hurt.

My cup of tea is clearly in motion. I’ll try not to splash the audience—overmuch.